


together in their sleep

by vipertooths



Series: 1917 [2]
Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Canon Era, Domestic Fluff, Getting Together, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sleepy Cuddles, sort of..
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26878315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vipertooths/pseuds/vipertooths
Summary: Blakefield Kisstober 2020: Day 7, Crown of Head/Forehead KissesThere's just something about Schofield that radiates a calm strength. Tom breathes it in, lets it settle him.
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Series: 1917 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678021
Comments: 12
Kudos: 46
Collections: Blakefield Kisstober 2020





	together in their sleep

Tom wakes with a muffled gasp and pushes away the criminally soft pillow, cursing himself for falling asleep on it face down. He can practically feel the ghost of the enemy's hand pressing into his esophagus, a carry-over from his dream, as he turns onto his side and waits for his eyes to adjust to the low light.

Sco is lying on the second bed about a meter away from him, both of them in some nameless inn on another nameless spot on the map, another waypoint between where they started and wherever this war ends. He feels less and less hopeful about that ending the longer they fight, but he holds tight to the belief that goodness wins out in the end.

He pulls his knees up, curling into a ball, and watches the rise and fall of Sco's back in the moonlight. It makes him feel better somehow, more grounded and less like his youth is slipping through his fingers. There's just something about Schofield that radiates a calm strength. Some take that as a challenge, try to ruffle his feathers just to see if they can, but Tom simply breathes it in, lets it settle him. 

He wonders what sort of effect he might have on Sco in turn, what makes the man want to keep him around. Bafflingly, they'd come to be a pair, a weird opposites-attract friendship in everyone else's eyes. They aren't _quite_ so different as everyone believes though, they just don't know Sco like he does.

Memories press to the forefront of his mind: Sco laughing at one of his jokes, teasing him for messing something simple up, singing quietly when nobody else is around to hear it. He feels indescribably grateful to have the privilege of being Sco's friend.

There's just one single ever-present problem looming over him when they're together: his own damned heart. He's terrified at times that someone will see his feelings written out clear on his face.

He shifts, uncomfortable with the thought, anxiety bubbling in his chest. The comforter feels damp where it clings to him and he does his best to ignore it, eventually flipping over onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. Ghoulish faces stare back at him—a product of his imagination, but still enough to keep sleep at bay. He sighs, crosses his arms, turns again. 

"You're going to drive me up the wall if you don't settle down." 

The groggy voice startles him and he bangs his knee on the wall. "Shit. Ow. Sorry. I'm just...cold." It's a half-truth.

After a beat of silence, he hears Sco shuffle. "Come on."

He stares dumbly at the wall. "Pardon?"

"You'll be warmer over here."

Hesitantly, as if he expects Sco to change his mind, he rolls out of his bed and pads over. Sco is staring at him expectantly, so he slides into the spot left for him, still warm, though equally as damp. He wonders if Sco can feel how tense he is, ruler straight on his back and trying to disappear completely. They've slept up against each other plenty, so he doesn't understand why this feels so different, so… 

He wracks his brain for the missing word, and just as it pops into mind, Sco leans over to adjust the comforters so both are covering them, tucking the top one under his arm. 

_ Intimate _ , he thinks dimly, as Sco's arm rests across his chest. His heart is lodged somewhere in the vicinity of his throat and it takes him a second to realize he's holding his breath.

He lets it out as inconspicuously as he can, aware that this is probably just Schofield's attempt to get him to stay still. He feels oddly exposed though, and attempts to shimmy himself further into the covers. When he accidentally hits Sco in the chest, he yanks his arm back quickly. "Sorry."

Sco lets out a long suffering sigh. "I'm not going to take a bite out of you."

_Unfortunately_ , Tom thinks, and says, "I know."

The moments tick by miserably, lethargically, as if they too long for sleep, if only he'd just close his eyes. He turns his head just a bit, just to see if Sco is out, but finds the man still watching him with half lidded eyes.

"No, I'm not asleep. You're making it quite difficult."

"I've barely moved!"

Sco hums and lets his eyes fall closed. "You never told me what Stevens did. You asked earlier, if I heard, but you never explained."

Tom blinks, thrown by the sudden request, but jumps wholeheartedly into retelling the story—anything to get his mind off the way he can feel Sco's breath against his temple.

He launches the anecdote energetically, exaggerating a few parts to keep the story interesting. Talking is his comfort zone, and he feels the tension melting away as he goes on. Gift of the gab, his mother would say. He's wound down considerably by the time the story comes to an end, and the building heat of two bodies under two comforters is finally pulling him back to sleep.

"Anyway," he says quietly, "he claims to have sworn off milk now."

"Think it'll last?"

"Absolutely not." He takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose, sinking further into the bed. Sco's grip on him tightens. "I'm not going to start moving again, you know."

"I know."

The words hang in the air for a moment and Tom shuts his eyes, accepting the comfort of being held. If he wanted to (he really wants to), he could pretend they're back home, curled up on a bed of their own, and there's no war at all. As he drifts off, he swears he feels the whisper of a kiss to the top of his head.

When he wakes the next morning, he returns the favor, pressing a kiss to Sco's forehead before sliding from the bed. And if he didn't know any better, he would say Sco's lips twitched with the smallest of smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> title from [this quote](https://thelovejournals.tumblr.com/post/185486601399/by-night-love-tie-your-heart-to-mine-and-the)  
> much love to the kisstober participants!! ❤


End file.
